Random Word Story #23-Bromance

Another in my series of short stories.

I’ve yet to write it but sit armed and ready.

The random words are generated at creativitygames.net

My words are:

beer…champagne…TV…hammer…tapestry…fish

Here’s my story:

The fish cleared the water’s surface and sparkled in the sunlight then disappeared, head first, back to the black depths. The fishing pole reacted just  like a divining rod, as it tipped and touched the surface pointing out exactly where the fish re-entered. Dale couldn’t believe the exhilaration involved in this wonderful, brand new activity.

He’d made friends with Chuck quite accidentally. Chuck was the first responder when Dale’s compact car had become wedged beneath an 18 wheeler with Dale pinned inside. Chuck’s reassuring voice had kept him calm. Chuck’s skilled hands had saved his life and their friendship was taking him places he’d never considered.

It was while Dale watched the heroic news video on TV at the hospital, that he had decided to thank Chuck personally.

They met at a local pub for drinks. Chuck ordered a draft beer and Dale had a celebratory glass of champagne since his hospital release had been only two days before. Their choices of beverages pretty much described their backgrounds. The odd, yet colorful, tapestry of a wonderful friendship had been started in that meeting. Some would call it a” bromance “…just two guys who really enjoyed each others company.

Dale had offered Chuck a guest membership at his country club. To Dale’s amazement, everyone liked Chuck immediately. He was in one word, genuine, and that transcended all social preconceptions of his worth. Crowds gathered ’round him to listen to stories, in improper grammar, of what he considered “just a job”.

Now off of the lake, Chuck was frying Dale’s prize catch.  He was not at all intimidated by social status. In fact, Chuck seemed happily unaware for the most part. Their wives had encouraged their outings and Dale was feeling a weight, greater than that semi, lifted from his spirit.

“Maybe we should invite your buddy Jackson next time old man? I’d love to see him baiting a hook with those pink gloves of his.”

“I don’t think he’d come , Chuck. He wouldn’t know what the proper angling attire is.”

“Neither did you and I’d say you are doing alright.”

They sat down to the fresh trout dinner and realized that they had forgotten to bring eating utensils.

“Use your fingers Dale. The fish won’t bite cha. We’ve got soap and water you know.”

Dale ate the best tasting meal in his memory, with his fingers.

“Here, try the eye. You fellas would pay big money for those if they were served on a plate with capers and a fancy sauce. Go ahead, old man.”

As the sun dropped behind the trees and long shadows reached their retreat, Dale reached for his cell phone. His wife wasn’t going to believe the wild adventure that he was having. There was NO service. He was disconnected.

As Chuck handed him an ice-cold beer, he could see the angst in Dale’s face. He casually reached into an old toolbox and approached him with a hammer. Dale suddenly felt as though it had all been a mistake. He was with a crazy man, a Neanderthal, maybe a serial killer. Why hadn’t he listened, why had he trusted?

Chuck laughed out loud at the sight of his new friend in total panic. What a boob!  His work with Dale was far from over, he could tell that for sure.

” I can fix that phone. Let me at it. ”

Later that evening they sat by the campfire and laughed until their sides hurt.